40.
Samburu (Elephants) by Karen McCall
Drinking chai tea
one night while camping in Kenya
I snap to attention
as roots groan,
bark shreds,
branches crack.
A small herd of elephants
pads softly near my tent,
tearing at trees
in search of food.
Adults rumble amiably and
snuffle up leaves.
A little one squeals.
I close my eyes
to fully savor the presence of this gentle sorority--
when the matriarch booms a thunderous growl
that jerks my rag-doll body
into the air.
Upon landing,
I rearrange my limbs
and regain my composure.
Nerves soothed,
drama complete.
Trusting, that the elephants trust me,
I fall asleep to the lullaby
of their, now quiet, feasting.
I rise with the sun
to a chorus of snoring and farting.
Next to my tent
five leathery mountains,
three adults two calves,
lie curled on their sides asleep.
The sixth elephant stands silently
guarding her family.
She must have seen or heard me
because the group floats to their feet in an instant.
And —
what a trick—
these giants vanish
like smoke.
All night long we had slept
next to each other
commingling breath,
dreaming of a new world built of grass and sky
where the Messiah is a mother.
Karen McCall
April 28, 2019
41.
Howler Monkeys - by Karen McCall
In darkness, before
sun swallows night,
male Howler monkeys rumble-roar from tropical tree tops.
Then quiet
covers the forest.
Quiet
quiet
quiet…
Until,
an alpha male
once more
thunder-growls his warning to all potential rivals—
constructing castle walls
with sound
42.
Gray Encounter (Grsy Whales)
By Karen McCall
Sea spray
bearing the tang of kelp and crustaceans
stings my face in the early light
as we skim across the surface
of the lagoon.
I am watching gray whales
feast and frolic
in the kiwi-colored shallows
of Magdalena Bay
when a cow-calf pair approaches our skiff.
The younger whale, only weeks old,
dwarfs our small boat.
His smooth elastic skin,
fresh from the shelter of his mother’s womb,
is already buttoned with barnacles.
Next to our bow,
he lifts his rostrum
out of the water
in friendly greeting.
His curious eye looks directly into mine
inviting my touch.
Before I stretch my fingers over the gunnels
to caress that infant cheek
Before the baby whale closes his eye in pleasure
at my touch
Before we linger
together like this
for a long part of an hou
His mother dives below
our panga and
lifts our boat a few inches higher in the sea.
We rise on her back,
emerging like an island from the brine.
She calculates
and pauses,
before
gently
letting
us
go.
43.
Raising Butterflies
By Karen McCall
In the dry aquarium in my kitchen,
a caterpillar
convulses with the promise of wings.
Parsley and milkweed within glass walls
create a small Eden
where fat fleshy cylinders feast,
then bubble out of old, too-tight skins
sending Monarchs, Painted Ladies, Black Swallowtails
into a transformative sleep.
In their final disrobing,
Monarch larvae leave behind
translucent, jade-green jewels
suspended from branches upon which
they once flexed and fed.
Their chrysalids store
a viscous caterpillar soup
that will morph into patterned, papery wings
designed to soar across seas.
On this morning,
one chrysalis darkens and trembles in contractions.
Green skin tears away
as twitching antennae emerge,
probing the alien air.
I midwife these birth-soaked butterflies
outdoors to cure in the sun.
The heat lifts them in the sky--
a confetti of wings.
44.
On The Edge - Tamarins
Their long tails flowing
Parabolas their paths of air
Stitching earth to sky
In the sweeping world
The trees on the edge of death
As if immortal
Eye to eye and face
To face the tamarins meet
The aspect of eternity
